


Stuck on You (Like a Shadow)

by kinkskeleton



Category: It Lives (Visual Novels)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Assault not between main pair, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bullying, Demons, Fake Science, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Ghosts, Home Improvement, House Cleaning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic and Science, Other, Requited Love, Revenge, Romance, Sexual Assault, Smut, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:49:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinkskeleton/pseuds/kinkskeleton
Summary: Len, resident outcast at Westchester High School and general misfit, had never expected to find love when he stumbled out into his childhood stomping grounds: especially not with the Shadow that lies within. Dating a shadow-ghost creature can't be that hard, right?





	Stuck on You (Like a Shadow)

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently got hooked back on It Lives in the Woods, and was woefully unimpressed with the lack of Redfield love. What can I say? I'd smooch a ghost.

Leaves crunched underfoot as he stepped over roots and broken beer bottles littering the damp forest floor, and a slight breeze ruffled the ones still hanging onto trees despite fall having come quickly and without mercy. He was thankful his mom had bought him combat boots for his birthday, now that he had seen the amount of shattered glass he had run into not even twenty feet into the woods. He shivered slightly in the cool autumnal air and, if it weren't for the fact that he was unbelievable pissed, he would have thought of turning back at the chill. It was still relatively early in the evening, but he wasn't sure when it would start to get darker now that the season had changed over. Its not like he wanted to go back to the house, anyway. The fact that it was so empty freaked him out, even if he was right next to his neighbor while his mom was gone. He and Hilda helped a bit, but he had always had a bit of paranoia; he didn't trust the kids at his school for shit, or at least most of them. Shaking his head, as if trying to dispel the thoughts, he hugged his black and white flannel closer to his body. He kind of wished he had thrown on his old leather jacket, but it was too late, anyway. Even though it looked cool, he questioned the intelligence of his decision to wear a mesh shirt in this weather. Really, he was just glad he had enough sense to wear gloves, even though they didn't help that much. The trees and greenery along the path became more familiar as he made his way further in. It was hard to believe it had been almost ten years since he had played out in these woods. A soft smile graced his pale face. He remembered the first time his childhood friends had gathered within woods and played hide and seek among the vines and cracked, rotting wood of the old trees. They had played there what seemed a million times. It had been the golden days of his youth, back before anyone realized that being different was something you got pushed around for. Before they realized that it was a dog eat dog world and everyone had to look out for themselves. Before Andy had broken his fist on Jane's face and Len learned a valuable lesson: sometimes the people that are supposed to care about you hurt you the most. The group had dissolved after that, Jane went to the hospital, and Andy had had to go to anger management therapy. Len still made a point of nodding hello to him when their eyes caught each other's in the hallway. If it was a dog eat dog world, the like wolves had to have each other's backs. His foot kicked something small, and it made a dinging noise as it went skittering across the ground like a spider that had been blown out of its web; almost frantic bounces and slides before it slammed against a tree an bounced back off. Cautiously he stepped forward and crouched down to get a better look at it. It was some sort of whistle that had been tarnished with age and the elements. He remembered giving it to Jane on her seventh birthday. She must have lost it sometime after they had had their falling out. He breathed deeply through his nose. It was best not to dwell on it. He ran his fingers across the leather cord attached to it, making it a necklace, and smiled. Leather: always dependable, no matter what got thrown at it. He huffed out a laugh and caught his fingers on the cord, pulling it up as he stood, and pocketing it within his flannel in one, fluid motion. He trodded back to the path and continued on his way, steps unfaultering. He hadn't ever gone too far in the woods, having been scared to dissapoint his parents or make them worry, but it was still nice seeing the liveliness of the forest; green and everlasting. Something between the foliage ahead of him caught his eye, causing him to pick up his pace and turn the bend of the path. It lead up to what once must have been a gravel driveway of some sort. That is, before what looked like the house had been abandoned. It's dull bricks and cherry wood front were a stark difference from the green around it, and even though most of the windows were busted in and the door was hanging off of its hinges, it looked like it had been a nice house once upon a time. It's gabled roof had shingles with strone grey slabs, and he could see a staircase leading down from where he was angled towards the house. He wondered how none of them had ever stumbled passed it, but shook his head at the thought. As a kid it was easy to distract him, so he wouldn't be surprised if he had stumbled across an ancient Egyptian tomb and forgotten about it in lieu of freeze tag. He brushed his hair back and pulled the black elastic from his wrist, pulling his hair back into a loose bun, before walking towards the house and standing on the dark wooden porch. It would have looked nice, homey even, if the sands of time hadn't done such a number on it. Though it wasn't the worst he had seen, surprisingly. His dad had worked in construction when he was really little, and his mom was obsessed with all those house flipping shows, so he had seen a few run down places in his life. In fact, he was sure with some elbow grease it would look like someone's dream home again. He stepped forward and pulled the dark red-brown wood door up and to the side, unlatching it from it's final death grip on the broken hinges to the side. He could see where the wood had splintered and broken off at the door frame. Ouch. Someone must have kicked at it pretty hard. He heaved the door to the side and layed it as gently as possible on the deck. Straightening up, he stepped through the doorway and took in the house. It was a large empty space, with dark brown hardwood floors and a semi open concept. The once white walls were almost cream coloured with age and dirt. There was a staircase in the corner that lead up, despite the lack of railing, and one next to it that lead down. He glanced around and headed towards a tiled space he assumed to have once been the kitchen. It had a white gas stove and oven underneath, a dishwasher a few feet to the side with a sink above it, cabinets lining the wall towards the top of the ceiling, and white marble countertops. Further into the house there was a large dining room, living Room mixed space if he was guessing correctly. There wasn't exactly furniture to confirm, but he had a hunch for some reason. Trailing a hand against the smooth countertops, he turned and leaned back. It must have been nice, once upon a time. He wondered why someone would abandon a home with that amount of potential. He certainly wouldn't mind living someplace like this. He had always loved the woods, despite his inherent paranoia. He pushed himself up and away from the counter and back towards the entrance, where he contemplated if he should go up or down. Looking at the dark basement, he shivered and started to head upstairs. Yeah, no. No way was he going down there without at least a lantern. Nope. He was careful where he stepped, making sure to test each step before he leant his weight on it. Surprisingly, the stairs seemed perfectly in tact, besides the squealing of wood that usually accompanied older flooring. The upstairs held a few rooms. There were four doors, three of which still stood resolute and closed despite how long the house must have been sitting abandoned. One, however, was broken down. Through the empty doorway he could see tile and a bathtub. Huh, a bathroom. He thought that if anything was to be broken into it would have been a bedroom. Stepping up to the door closest to him, he jiggled the handle and was surprised to feel that it was unlocked. He pushed I open slowly and found himself in what looked like it used to be a guest room. The queen bed was dusty, but the duvet, comforter, and pillows were all still made atop it. The rest of the room was simple, and didn't look like it had been touched in years. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, but all of the doors to the dresser and vanity were closed, and looked undisturbed. He stepped back out and closed the door. He checked the one next to it, which seemed to be a study in a similar state. The bookshelves, cabinets, and desk seemed all untouched by outside forces. A green study light sat perched on the desk next to a metal nameplate that read: "Redfield". Backing out of the room, he closed it shut behind him. Turning, he started towards the final closed door; the one at the end of the hallway: furthest from the staircase. When he turned the doorknob it was locked, unlike the other two rooms. Sighing, he turned and took a step towards the staircase when there was a cling behind him. He spun around, fast as a whip, and glanced around. His sight caught on the shining glint on the wooden floor. Kneeling down, he picked it up and turned it around in his fingers. It was an elegantly crafted key, which appeared to be shaped like a rose whose stem and leaves acted as the teeth of the key. Letting out a low whistle, he stood up and tried the key, which fit perfectly into the door. He turned the knob and took out the key, before putting it in his pocket with the whistle. The Door squeaked slightly as it opened, and he couldnt help the shocked "holy shit" he let out at the sight of the room. Like the others, it was untouched. It looked like more personal of a bedroom, though. The king fourposter bed sat in the middle of the back wall of the bedroom, and next to it their was a large window with a window seat like those he'd only seen in movies about old castles and secret magic. It held deep purple cushions and throwpillows. There was a large bookcase on the wall to the side of the room left of the door, which was filled with thick tomes, leatherbound books or journals, and various knicknacks. A desk sat next to it, a corked inkwell and various old pieces of blank parchment as well as a metal tipped feather quill. A small grande piano sat off to the right, taking up most of the space there, next to a brick fireplace and a stand of pokers and other firestarting tools. The floor was a deep, dark wood that still shined despite the dust covering it. The bed was the same dark wood, and it's fittings and curtains matched the dark purple walls and window drapes. It was gorgeous, and looked much older than the rest of the house: like it had been that way for longer. It might have been intentional immigration of older architecture and interior design, but for some reason he felt like maybe the rest of the house was what had been redesigned, despite how implausibly weird it sounded. Letting out a soft sound of amazement, he stepped forward, almost as if in a daze. His feet lead him to the bed, where he trailed his fingers across it. The silken comforter felt like heaven, even with the dust now clinging to his fingers. He sat on the bed, ignoring the dust, and looked around the room in wonder. It was amazing: the most intricate and elegant interior design he had seen, even with his experience. It was then when he noticed that dark was slowly setting outside the window. Gasping, he pulled out his phone and saw that it was nearly ten. He had lost track of time when he started exploring the house. There was no way he would be able to get back to his house before dark, and he really didn't want to go wandering through the forest at night, especially since animal attacks weren't uncommon in Hartfield. Shaking his head, he let out a moan of despair and dropped backwards onto the bed, sneezing at the ploom of dust that billowed around him. He really had no choice but to stay; no one he knew had a car that could drive through the woods, even if they wanted to go out and get him in the middle of the night. Well, he glanced around the room, he could be staying in a worse place. Quickly, he sat up and dropped onto the floor, catching himself on his feet before he toppled face first into Nosebleed Ville. He strode over to the door and closed it, locking it with the rose key. Turning around, he tightened his bun and nodded with determination. He closed the curtains in the window seat, pulled off the pillows, throw pillows, and comforter from the bed to shake them out and dust them off, placed them all back on as close to how it was before as he could, and searched the desk drawers for anything he could use as light. He did find a candle and matches, which he placed on the dark wood end table he pulled closer to the bed, before going back and closing the drawers. He struck a match and lit the candle after clearing the way of anything that could catch on fire, and stepped back to look at his handiwork. For some reason, the energy in the room felt much better: much happier. He wasn't sure if he was just projecting, but it seemed like a really good idea to stay, now. Smiling softly, he pulled off his combat boots and set them by the bed, before pulling off his flannel and setting it aside. He also shimmied out of his skinny jeans, but left the mesh shirt on. It was warm, but not _that_ warm.

He walked over to the fireplace (with his newly acquired matchbox) and dropped down to his knees on the fur rug there. He pulled a few pieces of wood and kindling out of a wooden crate to the side and arranged them in the grated fireplace, before going to his jeans and pulling out a few notes and finished assignments from his various pockets to place on top of the arrangement. Quickly, he went back to the fireplace and sat criss cross in front of it. He arranged the paper inside the kindling before lighting a match and catching each piece of fire. He blew the match out and dropped it into the fireplace, grinning as he watched it work its magic. He pulled the rug back away from the fireplace a few feet, just in case, before going back to the bed and dropping onto it. He crawled over to the candle and put the wick out with his fingers, before pulling the covers up and sliding underneath them. The room was surprisingly warm already, and the fire cracked merrily. Smiling, he pulled out his phone and pulled up his favorite playlist from his saved music. Paul Anna's dulcet tones sang out the lyrics of "Put Your Head on My Shoulder" from his phone's speaker. Sighing conently, he left the phone laying on the end table and rolled over to watch the crackling fire. His eyes slowly drifted closed as the music and warmth lulled him to sleep, and he shivered slightly as something cold brushed against his cheek, before dropping off to sleep, unaware of the shadowy presense sitting happily on the bed beside him.


End file.
